


Alone again naturally

by Ricky4479



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Nihilism, Rick thinks nothing matters, Self-Harm, but it does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24612430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricky4479/pseuds/Ricky4479
Summary: Rick thinks about the people he cares about. About how they don't matter. Or how he wants them to not matter.
Relationships: implied/referenced Rick/Stan Pines, implied/referenced Rick/Unity
Kudos: 21





	Alone again naturally

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, yes, I know, projection onto fictional characters is bad, keep it to yourself bud, this is my account and I can post what I want.
> 
> Title by the song Alone Again Naturally by Gilbert O'Sullivan

Rick stared at the ceiling, unable to move, not wanting to anyway but it would have been nice to at least feel his arms and legs or something. His vision was swimming, the sheets of his cheap bunk bed were drenched in sweat and his vains were on fire. It had been a few days since he attempted to kill himself after the whole Unitiy thing and currently he wanted nothing more than be drunk, on drugs and watch his body decay into nothingness. Although Rick couldn’t attempt to end his life early anytime soon, after all now he was on Mortys watchlist and Morty had limited his access to things he could hurt or kill himself with drastically. Rick really didn’t know why he was letting Morty get away with that, but what Morty hadn’t accounted for were the earth drugs Rick kept in his room in case of emergency.   
Heroin wasn’t his first pick for getting high, after all it was far more distructive and less effective than some other things he had in the garage, but it would work for now. His wrists were sticky, the blood pouring out of the many cuts had started to set and get hard and if Rick had been able to move, he would have ripped them back open, watching the thick, red substance flow away, making him more dizzy than he already is, but moving was something he simply couldn’t do right now, it was far to tiring and he wanted to enjoy the feeling of his organs frantically trying to keep going a little longer before he would fall into a deep sleep.   
Morty would find him, no doubt, he would try and wake Rick up and if that didn’t work he would call an ambulance. Or perhaps Beth. Either way, Rick would end up in the hospital. He hoped until then his heart had stopped, but strongly doubted it. Would be nice though. After all, what did anything matter? When the universe is in your hand, you realize how pointless everything is.   
Unity mattered.  
NO, stop that. Stop thinking about her. She was just as worthless as everyone else in this universe. In any of the universes.  
Still, Rick couldn’t keep the pictures of her out of his head. She was his perfect partner, his perfect counterpart, but exactly because of that it could have never worked. It would have never been allowed to work. Just like him and Beths mother. Just like him and Stan. Just like him and anyone he ever cared so deeply for. Just like everyone he thought mattered. The universe is ruthless, taking what you love and ripping it away, impossible for you to try and keep holding it. The only way to live without getting hurt ist o get rid of any irrational attatchments.  
All he had to do was let go.  
Let everyone go.  
Unity.  
Beth.  
Her mother.  
Stan.  
Birdperson.  
Squanchy.  
Even Morty.  
It didn’t matter, they didn’t matter. They shouldn’t matter.  
Ricks eyes were heavy, his stomach felt contracted, like he was about to throw up on an empty stomach. Maybe this was finally it? Finally death? No, that felt different. This was just the heroin stopping to work. Stupid earth drugs.  
He couldn’t fall asleep now, because either he had to shoot up more or join his meaningless family for dinner.   
Somehow, neither seemed very inviting. The heroin wouldn’t work the way he wanted it too and the food he would just throw up again afterwards, like always.  
Rick felt like some sort of teenage girl everytime he hunched over the toilet after breakfast or dinner, throwing up whatever little he had eaten, knowing it was pointless anyway, everything it did was make him loose control even further, but he felt like maybe he could just purge all those unwanted feelings out if he tried long enough.  
It doesn’t work like that you stupid bastard. You know it.  
Of course he did. He wasn’t allowed to believe anyway, why should he? Dreams and faith are stupid, just something to put children to bed to. He didn’t need faith, he never did.  
After a few more minutes of laying in his bed, unable to move, he could finally feel his legs again. Although he knew they wouldn’t be able to hold him, he stood up anyway, forcing them to work. They hurt so unbelievably much and Rick enjoyed the pain, bloomed in it, loved it. He put on knew clothes, not wanting anyone to suspect something, though, if he thought about it, he really couldn’t care less. No one was going to realize something was up anyway, just like when he tried to kill himself in the garage a few days ago. Why should they realize anything? He was pointless, just like everything around him.  
Rick put his hands in the pocket of his lab coat, feeling a razor blade in one of them and a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in the other. He had promised Beth he would stop, but why should he?  
Slowly strolling down into the dining area, he thought about just exposing his grotesque wrists, just to see if someone noticed. They wouldn’t of course, but maybe it would be fun watching their stupid faces staring at his stupid cuts, wondering in their stupid little minds about what might have happened.   
He decided against it.  
Sitting down at the table, he didn’t say anything, nor look up or greet the other people.  
“Rick? Everything okay?“, Morty asked, his stutter not even noticable. Rick just nodded.  
“Are you sure dad? You seem… off.“, Beth chimed in, putting down the dinner and looking at her father with worry in her eyes, but Rick didn’t see it.  
“I’m fine sweetie“ Of course it was a lie, but he hadn’t been okay for 70 years of delusion, so what did one more lie matter.  
After all, nothing did.  
Then, out of nowhere, Morty put his hand on Ricks thigh, looking him deep in the eyes, compasion and worry and concern filling them, compassion and worry and concern for Rick.  
He didn’t know why, but this was enough to push him over the edge. Some might have thought he would have lashed out at Morty, but quite the contrary happened. Ricks eyes watered fast, tears streaming down his cheeks and even a sob escaping his mouth.   
What was he doing? Rick didn’t cry! He never cried! He got angry and he hated himself and he destroyed things and his body but he never cried! Yet, here he was, tears rolling freely, sobs growing louder and louder.  
It took Morty a fraction of a second to pull Rick in a hug and soon after Beth joined. Summer, who had just come in, saw what was unfolding in front of her and, without a second thought, joined as well. Rick managed to grip Mortys shirt, almost ripping it at how hard he was holding Morty close. His head hurt so badly from trying to stop, but he simply couldn’t. Something in him had broken and he wasn’t able to repair it. He wasn’t able to put up a front and by the lords did he hate it.  
“We’re here. We love you Grandpa. It’s okay“ Mortys voice suddenly filled the room, stopping Ricks sobs and shifting his attention back to reality. By now Morty and Beth had started crying as well, Summer being the only one who stood her ground. That was the moment a thought sparked in Ricks mind.  
Maybe they did matter.  
Maybe they mattered so little that he cared about them.  
Maybe he mattered so little that they cared about him.  
Yeah.  
He could live with that.


End file.
